


Really?

by aishahiwatari



Series: Reality [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Although not as rough as you might expect, Anal Sex, M/M, Not Beta Read, PWP, Rough Sex, Sex used to resolve conflict, pure trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: Ash knows that this conflict between them cannot continue.Captain Pike has some suggestions for how they can resolve their differences.





	Really?

Ash doesn’t even know how it started.

 

Well, he does. It started with what he identified as an instant dislike and animosity, the kind that still smoulders at the back of his mind, dictating his thoughts and actions even when he isn’t actively thinking about it. It makes his temper short and his mind reach for the most hurtful and vicious things to say, ways to act, choices to make.

 

Physical contact, just the simple touch of hands, a spark of reality amid the impossibilities, solidifies that intense, dark roiling into something else, something that soothes his temper a little but leaves him with the same restless energy he feels like he can’t deplete.

 

Not without help.

 

He has access to all areas of the ship, unless Pike issues another order to alter that, and the crew are either so used to his presence or intent on ignoring him that they say nothing when he storms into Pike’s ready room.

 

His entrance is met with raised eyebrows and an expression of some bemusement. Pike reacts to him like nobody else. It’s jarring and deeply frustrating. Ash is attempting to get a hold on his new identity, looking through new eyes and it throws off his equilibrium to have just one person so far outside of the norm. Even Michael seems to eye him with wariness and distract some days, although that’s for different reasons to the rest of the crew. He can’t blame her, not really.

 

“This can’t continue,” Ash chokes out, because it’s the only thought he can verbalise in that moment. As though he doesn’t have enough to worry and otherwise discombobulate him, this Captain with his staunch idealism and unfaltering principles is giving him an unreadable look. He has a lot of those, and they drive Ash to respond. He steps closer.

 

Pike’s lips twitch upwards. “Did you have an alternative you wanted to suggest, Specialist?”  

 

He has a presence, Ash can’t deny that. His fingers twitch with the urge to react physically. But he’s a professional. Some days it’s all he has. “The power plays. The arguments about which of us is in charge at any given moment. It’s counter-productive to both our aims. You need to stop undermining my authority.”

 

“Take off your shirt.”

 

Ash has opened his mouth to respond before the command really registers. His insides flood hot, then cold, blood gathering immediately between his legs because he knows that feeling, he does, even with the unfamiliarity of his body.

 

He  _ wants. _

 

It infuriates him that he should be so transparent. He wants, but he does not want to want. And yet, he sees only one possible course of action. “You first.”

 

In his head, it had seemed like taking back control. Out loud, it is just arguing terms for the manner in which he says yes.

 

Pike knows it too, brushes his hand against the control panel on his desk to lock the door and steps out from behind it. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, as though he acts with the utmost confidence, he unfastens his collar and then continues down. His undershirt is tight across the sculpted planes of his chest, exceptionally pronounced as he shrugs fabric from his shoulders and then peels that last layer off. Ash’s mouth is watering. That doesn’t even make sense. 

 

Pike looks expectant, but mildly, somehow, like expectant is the wrong word or he doesn’t mind what comes next, he’s just curious to see it. He’s broad, even leaning back against his desk with his chest casually exposed, has that same presence that Ash has always found grating or, as it turns out, just frustrating. He hadn’t considered that the outlet for that frustration could be sexual.

 

Ash raises his hands to his collar. Pike’s eyes are dark and fixed on him. Ash feels a little drunk on the attention, works the fastenings of his uniform and slowly, like he could ever be denied, Pike approaches, not quite to help but to detach the badge that denotes Ash’s status in Section 31 and set it carefully aside. He’s never seemed to care about it before, but Ash is beginning to understand that things are different, there, in that moment.

 

“No badge,” Pike says, and gestures to the wider space around them. “No chair. Just us.”

 

It feels a lot like they’re about to fight. Ash feels exposed and not at all ready for conflict. His back is against the wall. He could walk away. He doesn’t. “I’m not what you think I am,” he feels the need to point out, because he had never told Michael and it’s haunted him ever since.

 

Pike considers it only briefly. “I’ve never known you any other way.”

 

He’s heard all the horror stories about Ash and what he’s done, who he is and what he isn’t, and yet here they are. Ash reaches out. Pike’s right about one thing; it’s better out of their uniforms. Without them, they could be anyone. They could be two men with far less space between them.

 

Ash’s hands are calloused but Pike’s skin is smooth and wrapped around shapely muscle. He’s hot, and strong, and he comes closer when Ash curls a hand over his shoulder and pulls. He touches Ash, too, first at the sides of his waist as though to steady him, then trailing fingers up through the hair on Ash’s chest. He’s gentle. Ash shivers.

 

Pike’s eyes meet his, where they’d been straying downwards. “You can walk away, you know. I’d never order you to do this.”

 

“You don’t order me to do anything.”

 

Pike’s smile shows teeth in the instant before he shoves Ash back, crowds him against the wall and clenches his fists in Ash’s hair to draw him in for a kiss.

 

It’s hot and wet and the impulses to push back and pull closer are warring violently. The prickles of pain slip from Ash’s scalp down his spine to pool between his legs, exactly where Pike presses his thigh. It’s impossible for Ash not to roll his hips, getting closer, all pleasurable friction, and to try and force Pike back, to gain some control of his own. He scrapes his thumbnails over Pike’s nipples but it just makes him snarl, bites his lip until it must be bruising and receives a heartfelt groan of approval.

 

He had thought Pike would be softer, hadn’t realised that he had considered it at all until that moment, has seen him toughen for moments where he needs to be undisputedly in control but it’s a part of him, not an act he puts on. He certainly doesn’t need Ash to go easy on him or to hold back any part of what he is.

 

Ash hooks a foot around the back of Pike’s ankle and pivots to take them both to the floor. The slam knocks the air from Pike’s lungs but his hands are still moving, one still somehow in Ash’s hair while the other digs between them for his waistband.

 

They’re really doing this. Ash shoves Pike down with a growl, makes him let go and laugh breathlessly, glares ineffectually but sufficiently captures his attention when he reaches down. Pike’s eyes are wide and dark and gorgeous and he lays back to watch Ash work. He’s sprawled and lax and Ash grinds his hips to make him squirm, to try and release some of the pressure that’s building up inside of him. It feels like he’s edging closer to violence and it must be showing in his face, in the way he fights to kick his boots off, but Pike’s lips part, pink tongue darting out to wet them.

 

He likes it. His hands are big and warm where they settle on Ash’s thighs. He’s not scared. He’s hard and Ash can feel him press into the crease of his ass, pushes against it to see Pike’s eyelashes flutter and to savour.

 

They’re a single door away from the bridge. There could be an alert any minute. Ash is not going to let the opportunity -he’s too far gone to consider it anything but that- pass him by.

 

“Get naked,” he demands, working at his own waistband. He has to stand to get his pants off.

 

Pike’s smirking “Yes, sir,” is at least accompanied by his acquiescence. He doesn’t bother standing, just lifts his hips and shoves his boots off and pants down in one fluid movement as though he fucks on the floor of his ready room all the time.

 

Because that is what’s going to happen. Ash knows that even before Pike retrieves the vial of lubricant from the pocket of his pants and hands it over.

 

Then he lays back again. He’s giving Ash the choice. He’s got that same damn look on his face like every possible outcome is nothing more than a mild curiosity for him.

 

He’s also absolutely stunning. Pale from spending his life under artificial light, but with lean muscle in all the right places and broad shoulders, a tapered waist, strong thighs. His cock is unapologetically hard, straight and thick. Ash feels like he loses a little of his mind just looking at him. 

 

He knows he has when he straddles that waist, angles himself so he can press their cocks together, wrap his hand around them and stroke. Pike grunts with pleasure and his hips twitch and Ash is not unaffected either, the hot satiny press against sensitive skin making him shiver and gasp. His is longer, already threatening to drip, Pike’s thicker and hard and, oh, Ash is going to have the captain fuck him. It’s inevitable.

 

He hangs his head and fingers tangle in his hair again, holding him steady. Pike’s eyes are dark and deep.

 

“Will this fix us?” Ash asks before he’s even thought about speaking.

 

“Who says there’s anything to fix?”

 

“I want to be able to respect you.”

 

“Respect must be earned. It’s nobody’s fault if I haven’t met your standards yet.” Pike fists handfuls of Ash’s hair again, urges him to look down at the space between them, at the meeting of their bodies within the grasp of Ash’s hand. “Just give us a chance.”

 

Is it more than sex, what they’re doing there? If it won’t resolve anything, is there any point to it at all? Could it possibly be worth the risk they’re taking, of making everything worse?

 

They don’t even have to fuck. Ash knows he could make them both come with little more than what he’s doing now. The tension is heightening. He drizzles lube onto his cock, watched it drip, smears it with his fingers over both of them, makes Pike hum softly and roll his hips.

 

Then he releases them and reaches back.

 

That, at least, gets some sort of reaction from Pike. He’s surprised, pleased, flattered all at once and he draws Ash down in to a messy, uncoordinated kiss, all tongue and no finesse. Ash is focused on pressing inside of himself, Pike on memorising the shape of his mouth with his tongue. 

 

When Ash whines, unused to the stretch and in no mind to ease himself slowly through it, Pike sucks on his bottom lip, scratches at his scalp, asks softly, “May I?”

 

Ash gasps, the idea sending a jolt of arousal through him. He fumbles the lube into Pike’s hand, somehow, and it’s him who initiates the next kiss, more teeth than tongue. It’s still welcomed, enthusiastically. Some part of him acknowledges that they’re working together and it’s progress. He almost laughs, but the warm, tight press of Pike’s finger inside of him takes his breath away, robs him of all conscious thought.

 

He begins to pant when one finger edges into two, is soothed with a hand still in his hair, soft lips still on his, a gentle voice urging him to breathe through the three that press in after that. A vulnerable sound escapes him in a voice nothing like his own. It’s nothing like it’s ever been, couldn’t possibly be, but he forces his eyes open anyway. 

 

Pike is watching him with something like awe. Whatever he’s searching for, he doesn’t seem to find Ash lacking. It’s overwhelming. Pressure rises in Ash’s chest. He might be about to snap. Pike strokes his hair and twists his fingers and it doesn’t make it better but at least he transforms it into something Ash understands.

 

Ash pushes his hips back, seeking more, and glares when those fingers are withdrawn instead. He expects to feel trepidation when Pike reaches once more for lubricant but it’s anticipation that insists on being acknowledged.

 

The head of Pike’s cock just teasing at his hole is a blissful, agonising torture. Ash knows he can take it, that when he sinks down his body will just make space for Pike to fill him, that it’s the only thing that can possibly counter the emptiness he feels. But it doesn’t seem possible. He’s vague and uncoordinated in his hesitance but Pike kisses his throat, licks sweat from his skin and waits. He’s patient. He knows the best moment to strike. Ash’s legs are trembling so he lowers himself down and lets his head fall back because it’s all just the right side of too much, Pike’s hands on his chest, rubbing and soothing and leaving cold trails of lube all over him.

 

It’s so real. It’s not perfect. The slide of Pike’s cock into him should be easy but it burns because Ash can’t relax until he does, accepts the inevitable, understands that his body knows what to do even when his mind is conflicted. Ash has never felt more present than in that moment when they cannot go any further, when he cannot take Pike any deeper.

 

At least, so he thinks, until Pike shifts his hips and every nerve in his body seems to light up in response, radiating from where they’re connected and up his spine. Ash makes an experimental movement, is rewarded with Pike’s hands settling on his waist and a soft murmur of encouragement.

 

It’s not enough. Ash rises up and slams back down in search of that spark, again, clenches his ass to make Pike gasp and grip him tight, is rewarded when Pike follows his lead and thrusts to meet him halfway. He’s focused and intense and on the third try, there’s that shattering pleasure again, life exploding through Ash’s synapses, consuming everything. It ebbs and flows and builds with the rhythm they establish, Ash vaguely aware of the occasional stutter of Pike’s movements that mean he is not the only one approaching a climax.

 

He speeds up, only grateful his body is still responding to his commands, his thighs trembling, breathing coming uneven and choppy, eyes unseeing because there is only them and he cares about nothing else but finding that perfect instant of completion.

 

It takes him by surprise, almost, his mind too caught up in the building pleasure to realise what he’d been reaching for until it hits him, all at once, like a phaser blast to the chest and he sobs as he comes, overwhelmed and wrung dry. He sags when the waves recede and manages to meet intense, darkened eyes before Pike, too, is shuddering and driving deep, working his come as far inside as he can reach. Ash’s paints his chest in generous stripes of white, and Ash smears it into his skin, imagining a more lasting claim than is physically possible.

 

They descend slowly, the world creeping in around them until the whirr of the engines registers again. Ash tenses when he hears Tilly laugh, relaxes incrementally when Pike reaches up to stroke the wiry hair of his beard. Their clothing is strewn everywhere. The sensation of Pike’s cock softening, allowing his come to leak out slowly, is deeply unpleasant. There is no way of cleaning himself up before he returns to his quarters.

 

“Feel any better?”

 

Ash is surprised by the question, even more so by his answer. “Yes.”

 

“Good.”

 

It’s said with surprising warmth. Not too abruptly, Ash offers what he hopes is a suitably soft expression and gets to his feet. His ass feels uncomfortably slick but the rest of his body has the sort of pleasurable ache that comes with focused exertion. He dresses, passes over an undershirt that isn’t his and receives a smile and nod in return.

 

It’s not the same professional courtesy as before, but it isn’t that jarring anomaly, either.

 

“I’d- appreciate your discretion on this matter,” Ash says, and his voice is remarkably steady, but he can’t make eye contact.

 

“Of course. Was this a- unique occurence, or might I hope for some further progress to be made in the future?”

 

Ash stops, halfway through fastening his shirt. He hadn’t even considered that, or if he had, he had dismissed the possibility. Can they possibly hope to sustain any sort of relationship with their history? Their situation?

 

Why is his heart pounding?

 

When he turns, it’s to find his badge being offered to him in an outstretched, steady hand. He takes it with a murmur of thanks, pauses before fastening it back on. “It’s entirely possible that further intervention may be required before we can consider this- complete.”

 

“I’d be happy to personally address any concerns you might have, Specialist Tyler. Conflict resolution is one of my top priorities.”

 

Ash wishes that didn’t make him return the smile he receives. He tries to hide it, but he knows that Captain Pike sees, and stalks out before he can say any more.


End file.
